


White orchid (turned blue)

by DanzaNelFuoco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Severus Snape, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Harry Potter, Omega Verse, Sex Magic, Sexual Slavery, Smut, more or less, we die like man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanzaNelFuoco/pseuds/DanzaNelFuoco
Summary: Harry had thought his fifteenth birthday would be no worse than his usual birthdays but when he presents as an Omega and is taken into custody by the Omega Care Association, under the Ministry directions, he finds out things could always go worse.As the procedure requires, every Omega must be assigned to an Alpha to be controlled (and who cares if the Association makes some money out of it?)Snape is sent to the rescue and is forced to buy him. Just what the Professor needed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my typical story. Omegaverse isn't something I particularly love, but this fic was requested, so here it is, and I must say I found myself so invested in writing this I just couldn't stop. 
> 
> Snarry is my OTP, I've read countless of fic, but this is the first Snarry I write (finished and posted, I mean), mostly because I've always been scared of the characterization (I hate OOC and I would hate if my characters went too much that way) but also because English is not my first language and I wasn't sure I could grasp Snape's linguistic characterization. I still feel this way, but I just thought, whatever I'm gonna do it nonetheless, you only live once.  
So, know I'm the first to be filled with doubt about this.
> 
> Another thing before you start: I have this headcanon that Snape is someone who swears, but since he's surrounded by children and he's not allowed, he convolutes his sentences to actually insult people in smart ways. Which means in private he could sometimes swear.

_… But first of all, we should ask ourself what an Omega is. The rarity of such a phenomenon - statistics show no more than an Omega per century is presented - shrouds these figures in legend, so the answer is still not clear and heatedly debated._

_The Omega Care Associations presume Omegas are undeveloped wizards, whose raw magic potential has affected the evolution of sexual characters still in the maternal uterus. They are considered to be dangerous, because of their great level of magical power and its being influenced by their hormonal variations. Of course whether Omegas aren’t really capable of controlling their vast power is speculation, because as soon as they present, they are taken under the responsibility of the Omega Care Association and assigned to an Alpha (according to the O. C. A.'s definition, wizards who had mastered a superior control over as much magical power as the Omegas, leading them to develop an advanced secondary sex whose characteristics makes them able to control Omegas and their bursts of powers). The criteria of such assignations aren’t disclosed to the public and any attempt to contact the Association to gather further information has been turned down. Which makes us wonder if we should believe the O. C. A. has no conflict of interest in considering Omegas subhumans._

_“No comment” has also been the Omega Care Association answer to our first inquiry about the health and safety of Harry Potter, taken into custody on August, 1st after the Ministry relieved him entering a Heat._

_“Mr. Potter is safe and he’s been taken care of as best as only our Association can do. We are trained to handle these situations and we can assure you the public safety isn’t and won’t be in any danger,” has stated Arwen Warrant, the spokesman of the O. C. A., on August, 10th, refusing to answer any other question._

_The doubt still remains: is this really for the best or is it just a political move to remove Harry Potter from the scene?_

_The famous Boy Who Lived had openly clashed with the Govern when, more than two months ago, had claimed You Know Who’s return after the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Minister Fudge has denied proof of such an event, cutting all of this as a publicity stunt…_

“O. C. A. claims Boy Who Lived - hazards control or political move?”

Betledum Oarkhet for the “Daily Prophet” (**articled rejected**)

Dumbledore was tired. Years had never been particularly lenient with him - grief and sorrows carving wrinkles on his face - but on that particular occasion, he looked aged about a century.

“I understand why you did it, but do you think it was wise?”

“Wise?” snarled Snape. “Wise, you ask? No, of fucking course it was not wise. Do you even realize its implications?It was the most idiotic thing I could have done! Are you really -”

“And yet it was the only thing you could do,” Dumbledore interrupted his tirade. Trust the old man to handle even the worst-case scenario with that calm attitude. “I assure you I perfectly understand every repercussion of this, both on Harry and on you. I was merely inquiring if you had exposed yourself to anyone.”

“Lucius was here, but he didn’t realize who I was,” he sneered. “I did it anonymously. I have an appropriate set of clothes for these situations.” And how ironic was it that his robes had been the same hiding ones he had been wearing ages ago at the Hog’s Head while listening to the prophecy that would ruin his life? “My cover isn’t blown, don’t worry. Besides this is so much in character with being a Death Eater that it wouldn’t even be a problem if they recognized me.”

“They will kill you if they find out you have the boy and didn’t hand him over to Voldemort. Of course, I’m worried about you.”

“I _have_ the boy. Yes.” Snape spatted, relapsing into a self-hatred mumbling.

“I know it’s not optimal, but it was the lesser evil. Harry’s life is safe.”

“Yes, the lesser evil. But - Fuck! When I think I can’t sink any lower…”

“Severus, my boy, you shouldn’t be so harsh with yourself.”

“Oh, please, spare me. I’ve _bought_ the boy,” Snape hid his face between his hands. “I’ve bought him like I could have bought a house elf. The damn Boy Who Lived.”

Dumbledore wanted to say something to lessen and mitigate the loathe in his words, but there wasn’t some magic spell that could erase the facts as they were.

And then, borderline to hysterics, Snape began to laugh, bitter and sarcastic and maniac. “I’ve bought him with the money I don’t have. Albus, I’ve used the money of the loan for the research on the Conscience Potion…”

“No, no, now Severus, I’ll help you with that. It’s for Harry’s sake after all. We couldn’t let Malfoy win the auction, could we?”

No, they couldn’t. Even if that meant breaking the confidence the Congress of Potioners had put into him, even if that meant ruining his professional reputation of Potion Master, even if that meant that Alice and Frank Paciock and the like of them - tortured senseless by Death Eaters - would never likely regain a little of sanity. He’ll have to false his experiments to make them look like they failed,he’ll lose it all if he got caught - lying to the Board of the Congress couldn’t be worse than lying to the Dark Lord, but Snape had believed in that project enough to present it to the Congress and it was something with the potential to work, or the Board would have never allocated that much funds to his draft.

And now it was all gone and it was Potter’s fault.

No.

No, damn, not even Snape could blame Potter for this.

No one would have expected Harry Potter to present as an Omega. Maybe an Alpha, infrequent as it wasto actually present, but after all, he was powerful enough for it to not be so weird if he had a second sex - not as weird as it had been for Severus “I can’t believe Snivellus is an Alpha“ Snape at least.

But Muggleborn and Halfblood were almost never affected by the phenomenon and the Potter hadn’t presented a second sex in… what, almost three centuries? Regulus had loved to mock James Potter endlessly about it. (The last Black Alpha had been his homonymous great-uncle Regulus at the start of the 1910).

Well, now Potter had presented as an Omega, the first in almost a century. Oh, of course, it wasn’t enough for him to be the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World and so on.

The Omega Care Association had the best day of their lives in taking him “under protection”. As if. More like stripping him of every human right and selling him out to the highest bidder. (They didn’t even have an Omega family with whom dividing the profits, they must have been happy as a clam.)

Yes, he could blame Potter for this, for all of this, for presenting, for driving him to enter in a damn auction to win him to the Light Side, for forcing him to buy him with money that he was supposed to use for greater things, for making him save him from a life of childbearing or worse.

He _could_ blame Potter, it would be _so_ easy to blame Potter as he had always done, burying the pain and the guilt under his anger.

But it wasn’t Potter’s fault Omegas were legalized slaves. It was _tradition_. Fuck, it was barbarian, selling a person… no, no longer a person, just an Omega, worth only for their womb and the magical power they could pass on to the child they could bear. Just an incubator. Just a _thing._

And the truth was, if Harry Potter was an Omega, even the ever-loyal Lucius Malfoy would have spared a second thought about handing him over to the Dark Lord if he had him. Oh, and Merlin only knew what ritual Voldemort would devise to absorb an Omega raw power. Severus didn’t want to think about it. Or the part he would have in projecting such an appropriated potion.

So, yes, it was the lesser evil that he had been able to enter the auction with so little notice - surely there was Lucius’ hand in an event so hasty held that hardly any Alpha could make it in time. It was just luck that the Pureblood had needed to leave the auction early because he wasn’t feeling well - luck, or a not so legal trick Snape had learned about materializing a potion directly in the victim’s stomach or blood - because otherwise Snape would have never been able to outbid him, stolen money or not.

“I suppose you have scented him?” Dumbledore interrupted his train of thoughts.

“I had no other option, it was mandatory to damp his pheromones. It’s gonna fade in a day or two, it’s nothing too permanent, even if I would have preferred not to do it.”

“Are you registered at the Ministry?”

“No. I used a Confundus on the officer, he forgot to write down my name. If I know how things work at the Ministry by now Harry Potter is property of John Smith. His tracking charm has faded the moment I brought him inside Hogwarts wards.”

“Very well. It looks like you have everything that can be controlled under control. It goes without saying, he can’t attend his fifth year normally. Had they complied the procedure?”

“Yes. The Association snapped his wand. He doesn’t need it, they said. I think I can obtain another one in Knockturn Alley - there isn’t gonna be that shit about the wand choosing the wizard this time, but we can’t go to Ollivander’s for a new one.” 

“No, it won’t work as well as the other but I suppose it’s better than no wand at all. And he needs one. Dementors attacking him in the plain day could mean only a thing, Voldemort has more allies than we had initially thought.”

“Yes, and he made them quickly. I didn’t know anything about it.”

“You must teach Harry, of course. He still has to defeat Voldemort, Tom will never leave him alone, it’s just gonna be a meaningless slaughter if we leave him in the Omega condition approved by the Association. No one else can know Harry’s yours, so I’m sorry, but I can’t lend you some external help for -”

“Albus.” Snape interrupted him. “I think I should pass Harry’s ownership to you. I - I don’t think I have the… _restraint_ and the capabilities to take care of him.”

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “You know I have a mate. I couldn’t take Harry even if I wanted to. And it wouldn’t be fair to him… being stuck with an old man such as myself.”

It was an open secret who Dumbledore’s mate was. After all, Omegas were so rare that one could easily remember the one who had started a war for his condition. Dumbledore had marked him out of love before he could be taken as a slave, seeing him as an equal. To Albus, he was just a human, but to the rest of the world he was a lower being and for Grindelwald, it wasn’t enough, never enough. It broke Dumbledore’s heart to fight him and defeat him, but there’s only so much respect fear can buy and Gellert didn’t stop when he ran out of it. Changing a society takes more than murder.

“I think it would be kinder if you were his mate,” Dumbledore told him.

“His -” Snape looked stunned. “His _mate_? Albus, I’m not planning on marking the damn boy! I just thought it would be temporary. When, and _if_, he defeats the Dark Lord, then he could decide an appropriate mate -”

“You know it doesn’t work like this. Even with Voldemort out of the picture, Harry is still an Omega. Besides, the marking could be crucial to winning this war. It could sever Harry’s connection to Voldemort.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I have a theory. Right now it’s just a hypothesis but should it be proven true it would mean Harry’s unavoidable death. Unavoidable, that is, only if Alphas mating secretions aren’t enough to sever the connection. I think Basilisk’s venom has proven adequate in the past, so maybe our _poison_ could work too. It's worth a try.”

“Albus, I -” Snape was speechless. “I don’t think it would be that much kinder to force me upon the boy.”

“Maybe. But you are the only one who can do it. And you feel inclined to do so, it’s in our nature. Of course, you could just let Lucius Malfoy mark him. With Bill Weasley being in Brazil for another year, Augusta Longbottom would be the next more Gryffindor choice but she is almost as old as I am, so maybe Althea Greengrass? I’ve heard she’ll be back in England by the end of the summer and she doesn’t have connections to Voldemort…”

“No!” Snape growled.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “And yet you were ready to give him to me. I wonder if you hadn’t done it exactly because you knew I would have refused.”

“What are you insinuating?” Snape’s gaze darkened.

“That you two share already an involvement deeper than what a mere scenting could form. Maybe your hormones were already influencing each other before his presentation.” 

“I’m not a child molester!”

“I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing. I was merely saying that maybe you two are closer than you think.”

“You are trying to manipulate me into marking him. I won’t do it.”

“Not even to save his life?”

“It’s a mere conjecture. Show me proof and I’ll think if raping and binding the boy to me for the rest of his life is a price worth paying.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Not even if Harry asked you?”

Snape laughed.

* * *

When he entered his quarters, Potter was sleeping in his armchair.

Snape hesitated. What was he supposed to do with him?

He knew what the Association thought he would and should do, he knew what Dumbledore wanted him to do, but… the boy. What was he supposed to do with Harry Potter the boy, not Harry Potter the Omega?

He took a moment to look at him, taking in his pale figure slumped against the cushion, his unruly black hair, the quiver of his eyes under his eyelids, the red lips that had brushed against Snape’s wrist when he let him smell his odor to scent him. The blue collar locked around his neck, indicating - as if any Alpha couldn’t smell him from miles - his status of Omega. Snape couldn’t bring himself to look at him just as that.

“Potter!” He decided harsh was gonna do it. No need to change their relationship. It would be better for the boy to be in the care of someone he despised if he thought Snape still despised him and surely didn’t want any kind of relationship with him - this was no sadistic retorsion Snape would take advantage of, he would make clear this was forced on them both, and they would go on with their life as best as they could.

“Potter, wake up!”

The boy opened his eyes slowly, the bright green of Lily’s eyes stabbing him in the chest as they focused on the room. Severus wasn’t psychologically ready to handle this. 

“S - Snape?” Harry croaked, his voice still numbed by the sleep. “What’s happening? I -Are we at Hogwarts? Was this just one of professor Dumbledore’s plan? A way to protect me? I thought - I didn’t know what was happening and those people - they were behaving weird, gave me some pamphlets, but I understood half of what was written in them and I don’t even know who they were, thank goodness, you’re here!”

Snape recoiled. That was the scenting talking, not Harry Potter. The boy would have never been so open to him - admitting his ignorance without worrying about Snape’s remarks, being thankful for his presence. No, for how much scared he could be, he would never behave like that.

Snape hated himself a little more than he thought it was possible.

“It wasn’t the Headmaster’s plan. You presented as an Omega, Potter.”

Almost taken back from the stern answer, Harry seemed to remember who he was talking to. He had been stupid to expect a little sympathy from the man, even after all that happened to him. He could be a familiar face, but he wasn’t a friendly one, he should have known.

“Yes, _Sir_, _they_ said that to me. It’s just that those words don’t make sense to me.”

Snape knew this was the right moment for a snarky remark on how usual it was for him to not know something. “Of course, they wouldn’t. You are Muggle raised after all,” he relented. Maybe he could give the boy a little respite before landing the greater blow.

“It is something that occurs predominantly in the Pureblood families. When a wizard or a witch extremely powerful is born, his or her magic affects the development and leads them to present a second sex. They are still primarily man or female, but they can also be Alpha or Omega. You presented as the latter.”

“And what does this have to do with what happened?”  
  
“The presentation of a secondary sex is monitored by the Ministry, they had known the moment you -.”

“Like the Trace?”

“Yes, Potter, like the trace. Now if you are done interrupting me -”

“I’m sorry, _Sir_, I’ve just discovered I’m not just male, I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to have questions.”

“Questions goes after I actually explained you something. You are lucky I cannot take points from Gryffindor.”

“You can’t?”

“No, silly brat, it’s summer, the school’s out.” Snape hadn’t thought till now he wouldn’t be able to take points because of Potter anymore since he was no longer attending the school. This was getting more difficult by the time. “Now, Omegas. We have not even started on the implication of this.”

Potter nodded, keeping silent to obtain more information.

“When the Ministry registers a Heat - or a Rut in Alpha’s wizards - they report it to the competent organs, the Omega Care Association in your case.”

“And Alphas?”

Snape glared at him for the interruption but said nothing, continuing is explantion. “Alphas don’t need a support group. We can join one, but it’s not mandatory. Omegas are… less in control, so the O. C. A. takes care there won’t be any accidents. After the primary care, Omegas are… _assigned_ to an Alpha.”

“So this is why I’m at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, you’ve been put under my protection.”

“You’re an Alpha.”

“Evidently, Potter, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Harry took a few minutes to reflect. It was a lot to take in and what if it wasn’t true. The Heat, yes, that he could believe. His body had felt weird, but he had thought that had been just a collateral effect of Dementors’ exposition, something about an adrenaline rush lasting more than usual or… he didn’t know, but something had been off. So ok, he had a Heat and was an Omega, technically not weirder than being told you were a wizard at eleven years old. He needed just a little time to get used to the idea.

Being under Snape’s control on the other hand was… more difficult to accept. The man hated him. Sure he had saved Harry’s life - or tried to - more than once and Harry by now was pretty sure he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, but…

“They took my wand!”

“Yes.” Snape looked uncomfortable.

Why was Snape looking uncomfortable? It wasn’t like him. Harry was about to prompt him to go on, when would they give it back, why did they take it in the first place, but then he realized he had only Snape’s word on what was happening. What if he was lying, what if he wasn’t even the real Snape? What if he was a Death Eater polyjuiced to look like Snape? No, Snape was too clever to be taken out and replaced. But then again Moody was an Auror with decades of experience and yet… 

Harry forced himself not to panic. “I want to talk to Professor Dumbledore.”

“The Headmaster is very busy. I do not think he will have time to spare for your whims.”

Harry felt his heart plummet in his stomach. “So basically, I can’t be sure you haven’t really kidnapped me. Or that you actually are professor Snape.”

Snape looked surprised. He _was_ surprised. That was… actually smart thinking. So the boy wasn’t just blind luck, he actually had a little brain.

He could let the boy smell him again, let his nose recognize him - even before the presentation his nose should have taken it in, Dumbledore was right and Snape should have paid more attention to the boy instead of trying to shut him away, he would have noticed the signal and they wouldn’t have been taken all by surprise -, that would put the boy at ease, at least about the use of Polyjuice. But that would mean enforcing his control over him and Snape could still feel Potter’s lips burning on his skin were they touched him unintentionally during their first scenting, so Snape ignored it

“Potter, I don’t think you have fully grasped the situation. It sure was my fault for trying to sugarcoat the situation, so let me be clear. I haven’t kidnapped you. I’ve bought you in an auction.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I wish I were. I assure you I had no more interest than you in this, but the alternative was Lucius Malfoy. So here we are.”

“You can’t have _bought_ me. I’m not for sale!”

“No, not now at least. Now you are _mine_” Snape growled and Potter looked subdued. Perfect, really perfect. What had it been, half an hour? And here Snape was already exerting his Alpha’s control over the boy. Regaining a little composure, Snape went on, “and you were for sale, before. The second you started your first Heat you were no longer a person in the eyes of the English law. You have been taken into the custody, your wand has been snapped, you have become an object.”

“I - I -”

Potter was opening and closing his mouth hopelessly. It was a concept too big to wrap his mind around it, something so unthinkable that his brain refused to, the words he heard had a sense separately, but as a sentence, they simply didn’t make sense.

“I don’t intend to take you up to your role. Nor to take you, full stop,” thought the idea looked excellent to his Alpha’s hormones. Snape forced himself to keep it professional and detached.

“T - take me?” Harry’s eyes widened.

“This is all about sex, Potter, Alphas are supposed to control Omegas through intercourse. It becomes painful for Omegas to have Heats without… without an Alpha taking care of their needs. Too many Heats alone and an Omega could lose his sanity.” Fantastic, he was discussing sex - about having sex - with one of his underage students. He could see the look of horror on his face.

“As I just said, I don’t intend to… take you. I can brew you Heat inhibitors and there are other ways to dampen the symptoms between the potions, temporary ways that require less contact.”

“Contact?”

“A minimum is… required.”

“Like what? A handjob?”

Harry had the decency to blush, Snape looked at him shocked.

“No,” he answered, but the sudden picture of Harry Potter, sweating under him, their hands wrapped around each others cock, rutting in a bed… no, he couldn’t think about it right now, or his restraint would fall. He had still Potter's smell in his nose from before, that must be it. He licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry.

“No,” he repeated, his voice still a little wavering, “I was thinking about something more… chaste. Like a…” Merlin, he couldn’t believe he was gonna propose such a thing, but surely it wasn't worse that what Potter had just said. “Like a hug.” He hated hugs. “Smelling each other is mandatory I’m afraid, the more contact between us the more your symptoms will be taken at bay.”

Relieve flooded through Harry, relive and… disappointment? Harry was stunned to find a part of him would have so much liked to… what, have sex with his most hated professor? Harry wasn’t even sure he liked girls after last year debacle with the Yule Ball and now he was getting horny for Snape of all people? His life sucked.

“Oh, ok. Hugs are… fine, I guess.”

They both looked uncomfortable and a strangled silence fell between them.

“I -” Snape started. “I’m gonna bring you a new wand. It will not be as efficient as the previous one,but I guess we can’t be that picky. As soon as you’ll take confidence with it, we’ll resume your education and start a more focused training. The Headmaster thinks the Dementors attack in Little Whining was the Dark Lord bidding, so you’ll need to concentrate on Defense Against the Dark Arts more than ever.”

“School starts in two weeks. Will I be able to go back to the Gryffindor tower when school starts? Or - or should I keep close to you?”

“You can’t go back. You are no longer a student.” Snape didn’t allow himself to feel sorry.

“I - I - I’m no longer a student?!” And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, more than being sold, more than his wand being snapped, more than been forced to stay with Snape. Hogwarts was no longer his home. Tears gathered in his eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks.

“I’ll give you a minute. Your room is the one on the right, just in front of mine,” and with that Snape left him alone.

* * *

That night Snape had been away more than a minute, but to be fair, he was finding more and more difficult to hold off his protective side. So he had walked the corridors, following the paths of his usual nocturnal patrols. What would he have given to find a student out of bed at this hours to vent his frustration on them! But the only student in the school was locked in his chambers. Not ideal.

When Snape had come back to his quarters, Harry was already in his room, he could smell him through the closed door. He fought the impulse to check on him, to see if he was feeling better, to make him feel better. Stupid Alpha’s needs.

The next morning though wasn’t any better. Potter looked subdued as he ate his porridge and Snape had to force himself to stay on the chair. He wondered how just one simple scenting - an act so little bonding -could have already triggered such protectiveness in him.

“I’m going to find you a new wand today,” Snape announced.

Harry’s eyes widened, full of hope. “Can I come?”

Snape snorted. “Yes, Potter, of course. What next, do you want to put posters on the walls of the whole Diagon Alley? The only way I can keep both of us alive is if no one knows where you are and who you _belong to_.” Damn, it should not have sounded so possessive, he definitely had to work on that. “Which includes your little friends. You are not allowed to contact them.”

“My friends - You can’t stop me from writing them!”

“I can’t?” Snape snapped. “Potter, I hate to be the one to remind you that _legally_ I can do what the fuck I want with you.”

It wasn't the best way to put it, but the whole situation was wearing him thin, he was being pulled in so many directions simultaneously… In addition to his role as a double agent - which was difficult and troubling enough even without adding another variable that could jeopardize his life and their probability of victory in the war - he now had to live with Harry Potter. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he still found the boy insufferable, too cocky and arrogant, but at the same time what was happening to Potter was _so_ terrible no one deserved it and Severus wasn’t used to feeling sorry for Potter - he had suppressed and denied that feeling under a wall of anger and if he let himself feel sorry for _all_ that happened to the boy he would crumble under guilt. But now his smell was still in his nose even if it shouldn’t be possible, which meant Severus _needed_ to feel for him, to protect him and touch him and fuck away all the pain and make it better and… and remember himself the boy was just fifteen, and under his professional care. This was so much wrong.

Snape had learned the hard way that self-pitying wasn’t going to help him in any way, but sometimes he still allowed himself five minutes of selfishly asking himself what would happen if he just runned away. They were just moments of weakness, this was his amend, fixing all his mistakes was a life-long task, something that would end only with his death and leaving wasn’t an option. Not when every single thing he did lead to another mistake to correct.

Exactly like he had just done, judging by Harry’s horrified face.

Harry had realized it was true. It sunk in his brain that everything that had happened to him since his birthday wasn’t a very realistic nightmare. He had been kidnapped and locked up in a room for days, drugged with something that suppressed his Heat but also made him dizzy and sleepy. Days had passed in a haze, he didn’t even know how much time he had spent in that room, looking at the ceiling, and then he had been given away, he had been sold. To Snape. Snape who was his “master” - no, no, Harry decided he would never call him that -, Snape who owned him, Snape who could do everything he wanted with him and no one would lift a finger. Snape who hated him…

“Potter?” Snape asked, worriedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry hadn’t noticed he had started shaking. He would have thought the man’s touch would have made him jump, considering his train of thoughts, instead he just found himself calming down.

“I didn’t mean I would _actually_ do something,” Snape added, trying to soothe him, sobered by Harry’s reaction. “But I think you should always remember that your status in this society has changed. What I’m gonna do - giving you a new wand - it’s illegal. You are considered a public menace that I should be guarding constantly. Instead, I’m arming you. Believe me when I tell you I don’t consider you any different from the person you were at the end of the last term just because of your revelation and I will not treat you any differently. You are not a slave.” Snape’s hand left his shoulder. “However for both your and my safety, I’m forced to forbid you to write to your friends, at least until September. By then they’ll be here at Hogwarts and the possibility of your owl being intercepted is less likely. But even then, you can’t write anything about where you are, with whom and what are you doing. Understood?”

Harry didn’t trust his voice to speak, so he just nodded.

They hate their breakfast silently. The atmosphere was tense, Harry couldn’t wait to be alone again, he felt like he was gonna implode and he just couldn’t do it in front of Snape. To distract himself he started gathering the empty dishes, wondering where was the sink to wash them. Maybe if he kept his hands full…

The clattering of the spoon falling on the table brought his attention back to Snape.“I’ve told you, you are not a slave. You are not supposed to take care of the dishes.”

Harry was taken aback. The men looked angry as if doing a simple house chore as he had always done meant Harry succumbing to his condition.

“I wasn’t - That’s just what I would do if I were still at the Dursley’s. It’s not a… _slavish_ attitude, it’s courtesy. I live here now, don’t I?” That leads his thought on another trail. “How - how permanent is my living here? Do I have to back to the Dursley’s next summer?”

“No. You are not allowed to not live with your Alpha. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay at Hogwarts.” Snape was almost ready to concede him they could arrange visits when - _if_, but maybe he wouldn’t add that a little hope was not so bad in this case - the Dark Lord was defeated, when Harry spoke.

“Good. It almost makes up for being enslaved” he weakly joked, tugging at his collar for the umpteenth time. The damn thing was itchy and since they had locked it around his neck he couldn’t stop torturing the blue stripe.

Snape, though, seemed to notice it for the first time. “Is your collar bothering you?”

“It’s tight.” Harry shrugged. “Do I really have to wear it?”

“I’m afraid yes. There’s only a way to remove it and you wouldn’t like it.”

Harry didn’t say anything but his interrogative face was enough to make Snape sigh before continuing. “The collar is not a concrete object. It is spelled on you and the only way to break it is if I Mark you.”

“Mark me?”

The boy’s ignorance was abysmal, but no one could really blame him. He was an unlikely candidate to present in the first place and if he still had parents that could explain him the Omegas’ lore, he probably wouldn’t have presented at all.

“It’s a magical procedure,” Snape explained. “If an Alpha bites an Omega in this ritual they get bonded. For life. It’s unbreakable and it’s just another form of the collar you are wearing now.”

“Oh, ok. I guess the collar stays.”

“Any other question?” Snape inquired.

“No.”

“Very well. Then come here.”

“What?” Harry was taken by surprise.

“I’m sorry, Potter, but this needs to be done. I don’t like it more than you.”

“W- why? What are you going to do?”

“Do you have to question every single thing I do, you insufferable brat? I’ve told you I’m not gonna -” Snape sighed. “I’m just gonna scent you, I need to feel connected to you as much as possible to chose a wand for you. Now come _here,_” he ordered while slowing getting to his feet.

“Oh,” Harry blushed. Snape’s voice was darker and deeper, almost a dangerous growl, sending shivers down his spine. He obeyed with shaking legs, placing himself in front of him.

It was awkward, not knowing what was gonna happen, what he was supposed to do, but still, have some sort of expectation.

“It would be easier if you close your eyes” Snape advised him and Harry did, only it was worse.

Not being able to see what was happening was even more scaring and thrilling.

His heart fluttered and he almost jumped on the spot when he heard Snape sniffing his neck, the man’s shoulder touching his sternum as he got closer. Without thinking, Harry lowered his head and inhaled.

Snape’s smell filled his nostrils, hitting him like a punch in the stomach, and Harry felt he needed more - more scent, more contact, more heat, more skin, more Snape. It almost freaked him out how much he actually wanted it. But his smell was _so_ good he didn’t have in him to feel worried. A moan escaped trough his lips.

He heard Snape hold his breath, taken by surprise, before continuing on his neck with even greater zeal. Harry could feel the man’s nose brushing against his throat, his breath on his skin, his lips so close to his flesh it would take movement so imperceptible to make them touch, a movement Harry made without even realizing it.

That was all it took, then Snape growled in the slope of his neckline and pushed him against the wall behind them, his tongue darting up and down his neck, licking away sweat and scent, his teeth brushing his skin as he sucked his tender skin.

Harry’s hand gripped his nape, pushing him closer, wanting more and more, his hips jerking on their own free will, rubbing his throbbing erection against the other’s leg.

It was Snape’s turn to moan and that suddenly seemed to throw him off. He pulled away, horrified by himself like he couldn’t believe he had actually taken advantage of his fifteen years old student.

Harry couldn’t care less about the moral compass of the man right now, so he drew closer and kissed him, full on the lips, tongue licking his mouth open.

Snape responded to the kiss for just a second before pulling away. Harry could see the effort it took him on his face.

“This - this is inappropriate” he managed to say, putting some distance between them. “I need to go now.”

Harry watched him go, breathless and aching for more.

* * *

Once he got a new wand Harry felt whole again. He hadn’t understood how much dependent on it he had become in the years. That stick of wood was what defined him as a wizard, being without it was like being thrown back to his ten, still a little boy sleeping in a cupboard.

He was again Harry Potter, wizard, Gryffindor - if only in his head.

And to be fair, Snape had been true to his word - the man had principles, figures - treating him as he always had, even if a little less harsh. He was almost the same as usual, and living with him wasn’t as weird as he would have expected after their first breakfast together, though it was weird nonetheless. Snape had decided to pretend nothing had happened, but Harry could see he was uncomfortable being near him, hyperaware of where Harry was all the time and particularly set into avoiding any physical contact with him. But his refusal to let physical closeness become something natural and ordinary made the necessary daily scenting even more meaningful.

During the day Harry kept wondering what was happening to him - that was Snape, for fuck’s sake - but as soon as the time of the day came, he could feel the anticipation building up in his whole body. It wasn’t just a momentary effect, something that happened only while he was sniffing him, he was looking forward to those amazing and awkward moments when he actually needed to fill his nostrils with Snape’s perfect smell and Harry just couldn’t get enough and just wanted more - to have more, to touch more, to feel more. He could see Snape wanted more too, but the man had made a point of keeping it chaste after their first exploit, getting away as soon as he deemed the scenting done. It turned out it took too little time - for Harry’s taste - for Snape’s smell to stimulate his glands to excrete a particular type of pheromones that told his brain he was taken and stimulated the Alpha’s glands to do the same when inhaled, in a vicious circle of positive feedback that was meant to lessen his burst of magic.

Not that such burst of involuntary magic had been that frequent. Actually, except for an exploded window, while he was still at the O. C. A. base, he hadn’t had them. But then again, he had been scented almost immediately after that.

Maybe he wasn’t just powerful enough to perform wandless magic.

Which made him very grateful to have a new wand, even it wasn’t as good as his previous one.

He had regained the use of the simplest spells in the first day - every movement he learned on his holly wand were just a little off-balance on this oak one - and by the end of the week, he was ready to start learning new ones.

Since he couldn’t attend Hogwarts anymore, his classes had been taken by Snape. The man had refused to even allow him near a Divination Book and Harry had never been happier, though he would have thought Snape would have appreciated his effort of inventing a new deadly incident every week - “I’ve spent too many years of my life trying to save yours to find this amusing,” had been Snape’s reply.

The rest of his classes had remained more or less unchanged - except for Herbology since he couldn’t visit the greenhouses anymore, and Astronomy for the same reason, that would remain only as theoretical.

The news was a particular branch of Defense Against the Dark Arts he was now bound to follow almost as frequently as the same Defense: Occlumency.

Harry kind of understand why he needed that - he still remembered Voldemort from his vision and that was something he didn’t want to see anymore -, he just didn’t understand what was so urgent or important about him mastering that art.

“Tomorrow is September, 1st,” Snape told him, “I won’t be here, my presence is requested at the Feast. I need to be sure you won’t roam the corridors in hope to see your friends. Some of the students are Alphas, they would smell you from milesn away and know who has scented you. I need to know you will stay here, not even thinking about them. So now clear your mind, we’ll start the practice.”

As Harry tried to follow the instruction, meditating to empty his brain from every thought, Snape removed silver threads from his head with the point of his wand and deposited them in a basin, before turning to face him.

Harry raised his wand, ready to counteract Snape’s spell.

“_Legilimens_!”

* * * 

“A lemon sherbert?” Dumbledore offered to Snape as soon as the man sat on the chair.

“No, thank you. I’ve come to discuss an important matter.”

“Did something happened with Harry?”

“No,” Snape waved. Their daily talk about the boy could wait - after all, everything was just the same, his continuous request to see the Headmaster that regularly got denied, his studying, his nonexisting progress in Occlumency, the scenting, the lust. He wasn’t there to discuss all this, again. “I’ve been invited to Malfoy’s Manor for a party.”

That caught the old man attention. “Voldemort?”

“I think it’s another kind of trap. I floo-ed some acquaintances. He invited every Alpha. He wants to smell who has Potter. Whether it is for the Dark Lord or himself, I don’t know. The Dark Lord has been oddly quiet lately, I had expected a summon after the announcement of Potter’s status. I doubt he has given up the idea of killing him just because he’s an Omega.”

“The Prophecy says as much. Lucius Malfoy could be a vanguard. Severus, you can’t go.”

“I can’t not go. I have no suitable excuse not to go, I’m not in another country, not too old to attend. Unless I’ve got Potter. Not going would equal to admit it.”

“But going will make them know. They can wonder, but if they smell the boy on you…”

If anyone smelled the boy on him he was dead. And it would take little for Harry to follow. Then the whole war was lost. But if he didn’t go…

“Not if I take a smell altering potion.”

Dumbledore didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure it will work? Your life depends on it.”

“I was able to deceit the Dark Lord for half my life, I’m sure I can handle Lucius. He will know my smell is different but he won’t be sure why. I’ll blame it on having intercourse with someone else. He doesn’t have any reason to suspect me. He knows I’m loyal to the Dark Lord and I would have handed him Potter, if I had him.” It was a gamble, but he had to make it, they both knew it.

“Just be careful, my boy.”

Yes, as if he could. Sometimes Snape felt like a juggler with too many balls in the air.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy’s party were always the most pompous and lavish, so this one was no exception.

Alphas weren’t the only ones invited, and the Manor was overfilled with people.

He saw Narcissa entertaining the American Ambassador from Macusa, while Lucius was deep in conversation with none other than Cornelius Fudge.

Taking a flute of wine from a tray magically floating through the room, Snape prepared himself to meet the host and be subjected to a scrupulous examination. He hoped he still knew Lucius well enough to fool him. Talking in detail about whatever brunette he would pretend he had fucked to alter so much his smell should distract him enough to actually wonder why Snape was the only Alpha there with a different scent - or, if that fail, to make him think Snape wasn’t stupid enough to enter the lion’s den, so of course he would have had sex with someone else.

It was a good enough plan. After all, Lucius was smart, but not so smart, or he wouldn’t have given the Dark Lord’s diary to Ginevra Weasley so easily. It had cost him a whole session of Cruciatus Curse when the Dark Lord had been back.

“Ah, I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, the white wine is horrible tonight,” a feminine voice said behind you.

“I wouldn’t let Lucius hear me if I were you. It’s very probable he has spent a lot on this,” he replied, putting the half drank glass back on the tray and turning to face Althea Greengrass.

“It’s not probable, it’s sure,” she laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Severus. Would you be so kind as to dance with me?”

Snape was not here for small talk, he had to talk to Malfoy soon or that would be suspicious, but he was also supposed to be here to enjoy himself and it would be discourteous to refuse, so he just lend his arm to the woman and escorted her to the dance floor as the singer started singing a new song.

Bowing politely at his partner as the etiquette required, Severus took Althea’s hand to commence the dance.

“It seems to me that the singer had at least retained magic in his voice, even if he’s a Squib.” He started. Casual conversation was expected - after all dancing was just an excuse to socialize.

Althea ignored him, her cheerfulness altogether replaced by seriousness. “Severus, you need to go.”

“I did not think courtesy had evolved in such a path in the years I’ve locked myself in the Slytherin Dungeons” Snape tried to bought time to think about a believable excuse to tell her.

“You _reek_ of him.”

“Him?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Severus. The Omega.”

“I most certainly do not… _reek of him_, as you put it. I don’t have him”

“I know you well enough to know this isn’t your smell, even if I can’t tell if its the boy’s or not. Lucius will understand as soon as he gets close to you. You need to go. I’ll excuse you, saying you weren’t feeling well - the wine was absolutely horrible after all -, and I’ll tell him your smell was perfectly normal.”

Damn her! She had always been smart, but age had sharpened her wits. Severus had counted on other Alphas not being interested in his smell. Lucius wouldn’t be so perceptive, but if she talked to him…

“I assure you it’s not necessary, but I assume it’s not a favor you would grant me out of kindness, Althea. Why would you do such a thing?”

The woman put some distance between them, following the dance steps, just to whisper in his ear as she got close again. “Because I need a favor. A big one.”

Snape looked at her wearily. “A favor?”

“My daughter is showing the signs. She will present.”

“Congratulation. Another powerful wizard in your family, and without skipping a generation. This must be a new Alpha record. Daphne or Astoria?” He let her pirouette, before taking her back in his arms.

“Astoria. She’s not presenting as an Alpha.”

“Of course, and you want me to prepare the Locking Potion.” Ah, the reason for so little Omegas presenting. It wasn’t just intrinsic in the race - as many thought - no, Omegas weren’t less because they were aberrations. Omegas were less because… Well, parents who loved their children usually tended to not look at the idea of them being enslaved and sold with fondness. It was much better to magically castrate them before they could present, confining them to be just Betas - as were called the wizard without a second sex - with a particularly developed nose.

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine” whispered Althea. 

“I will owl you when I have the potion. But make sure you are particularly convincing when you tell Lucius I don’t have the boy,” he consented, confirming what she already knew without compromising himself too much, it was a risk, but not worse than trying to fool Lucius after alienating Althea.“After all, it’s the truth.”

Althea smiled, knowingly, but said nothing.

As the music faded, they separated and bowed to each other.“Then we have a deal.”

* * *

Like Eve in the Garden of Eden, the temptation was hard to resist. The Pensive was there, closed behind the glass doors of the cabinet, the silver glimmer catching his eyes every now and then.

Harry had forbidden himself to think about it, but he was lonely and after hearing the chattering of Slytherin students coming and going from the dungeons through the door all day, the thought of finding out what the silver sparkle hid was the only thing that had kept him from taking his father cloak and going to find his friends. He knew they were there, he could picture them in the Gryffindor Tower, wondering where Harry was and how he was doing, worrying themselves sick over him. Or maybe not. Maybe they were just thinking about what good riddance this whole situation was. After all, it wasn’t like they had written him lots of letter during the summer even when they could. 

It was an exaggeration, of course, Harry could admit he was feeling a little depressed - no friends, no class, no normality, only Snape. And Snape had resumed his job as Potion Teacher, so Harry was just there, trying to study, alone and bored and a little blue. A lot blue.

The Pensive was just there, enough to trigger his Gryffindor impulse, and he knew Snape was gone to a party, so he would be away for more than the two hours that his lessons took, too busy socializing with other Slytherin or Death Eaters or Alphas. Whatever. Harry didn’t give a shit with whom Snape preferred spending his time - and if he did it sure was his hormones’ fault.

So what if he was curious? The man didn’t care about invading Harry’s privacy during Occlumency, after all. And besides Harry was sure Snape was just trying to avoid embarrassment. There couldn’t be anything else, right?

_Voldemort_, a tiny voice in his mind reminded him, but Harry had gotten very good at ignoring it.

It took a lot of effort to open the cabinet and sheer luck. At the end it was just a very helpful burst of involuntary magic, sparked by the building frustration of not being able to open the damn thing - Snape was really good with wards.

Well, this was the last chance for second thoughts. Harry could still back off, pretend that opening the cabinet had just been an accident and forget about it.

But Harry wanted to know what the hell was so important that Snape wanted to keep it away from him.

So he dived in.

… A boy, six or seven years old and a woman, crying, hiding her face in her hands. “Mommy, mommy, are you all right?” the little boy was screaming, tugging at her sleeve, then she removed her hands, revealing a bruise on her cheek. ”I’m fine, Severus, you know how your father gets when he’s angry, but it’s gonna be all right” …

… The same boy, ten years old, and a girl, same age, red hair, “It _is_ real, isn’t it? It’s not a joke? Petunia says you’re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It _is_ real, isn’t it?”

“It’s real for us. Not for her.”…

…Snape at fourteen, writhing on the floor, moaning, a man standing over him, “Congratulation, Mr. Snape, you are an Alpha, it’s extremely rare for a wizard that doesn’t come from Pureblood families”...

…Harry’s father, Harry’s father being a bully, Snape floating in the air, “I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’…

… “I’m sorry, Lily, I didn’t mean it!” “Oh, I think you meant it, go away Severus, you have new friends now, you don’t need a filthy Mudblood like me!”…

… A Death Eater meeting, Snape exposing his forearm, a wand pressed against his skin and the Dark Mark getting impressed in his flesh…

… Dumbledore sitting in a tavern with Professor Trelawney, a prophecy - Harry felt his blood froze in his veins - a prophecy about him and Voldemort, and a man dressed in black, his face in the dark, completely anonymous, but… the clothes, the same damn black tunics of the man that bought him. The man hearing the prophecy was Snape…

...Pain, Snape wriggling mid air, Voldemort mocking him angrily, "_Crucio_!"...

… Snape and Dumbledore“How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”

“Everything - everything I heard! That is why - it is for that reason - he thinks it means Lily Evans!”

“The prophecy did not refer to a woman. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July —”

“You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down - kill them all -”

“If she means so much to you, surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?”

“I have - I have asked him -”

“You disgust me.”…

…Snape torturing,Snape spying, Snape killing, Snape crying, Snape, Snape, Snape…

Harry felt headlight, his vision dizzy from tears, he was angry, he didn’t want to see anything else, but the memories kept flowing.

… Snape hiding his face in his hands “Fuck! When I think I can’t sink any lower…” and Dumbledore “Severus, my boy, you shouldn’t be so harsh with yourself.”

“Oh, please, spare me. I’ve _bought_ the boy, I’ve bought him like I could have bought a house elf. The damn Boy Who Lived.” Then Snape laughing, hysterically “I’ve bought him with money I don’t have. Albus, I’ve used the money of the loan for the research on the Conscience Potion…”…

…Dumbledore again “But, Severus, the bond between an Alpha and an Omega is much more than that twisted power play the Association wants you to believe. The mark is a symbol of love, of trust, of codependency. An Alpha doesn’t mark to dominate, he marks to protect and gets marked in turn - even if it’s not as showy or advertised. It’s mutual. It’s like a wedding band, not shackles.”

“Albus, for the last time, I’m not gonna mark the boy.”

“You hate him that much? Even after all this time?”

“Never. You know I’ve never _hated_ him. Resent him, yes, but hate, never. He’s Lily’s child.”

“Only that?”

“Albus…” his voice pleading…

Harry kept shifting through memories, pain and grief and sorrows - was it is or Snape’s?

… “So?” Why was Dumbledore always there, why Dumbledore knew and didn’t say anything, why he let Snape buy him, why why why?

“He doesn’t progress and if he’s linked to the Dark Lord…”

“He could implant new thought in him.”

“Yes, he could become the Dark Lord’s puppet, doing his bidding with his incredible magic. I have not saved him for this.”

“It’s almost like you care for the boy.”

Snape stern face “What if I do?”…

Yes, what if he did? Who gave a fuck if he cared!

And as he thought so, Harry was thrown out of the Pensive, landing on the cool floor of Snape’s- theirs - chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we are here.   
First of all, I want to thank you all for the comments and the kudos and the bookmarks because you’ve all made me very happy (if I haven't replied is only because I'm incapable of writing a coherent reply and my brains is just: 'askfjsdkfjs omg someone liked it enough comment I'm dying'). 
> 
> Second, I want to apologize for how late I am with this chapter, but real life happened (meaning, “hello depression my old friend”) and when I was able to write for this again it was after almost 4 months of writer's block. 
> 
> It has taken me SSRI, 6 weeks of a writing challenge (pieces of this chapter have been written for COW-T#10 weekly missions) and being forced home 10+ days (and going) quarantined for coronavirus to get this done (greetings from Italy, folks!) 
> 
> At this rate chapter 3 will probably be out only if we get a plague of locusts, but, hey, a girl can always hope (to get it done sooner, not the locusts).

_… Following the 83 variations on the formula, all exposed in the preceding paragraphs, the potions obtained were both tested with analytical spells and administered to 515 testing subjects (5 subjects for each potion, with the exception of potion 77 where 95 added subject where tested - see below).   
No combination of the enlisted ingredients has produced any active compound, with the exception of potion number 77.   
A sub-sequential investigation on the said compound had proved that the hormonal variation it provoked was not always replicable (13 out of 20 tentatives) and, when it was, it was fatal to the subjects in 41% of cases.  
The hormonal variation generated in the subjects a form of hypothalamic dysregulation of thermogenesis with temporary temperature increase over 48°C (note for the O. C. A.’s Experimentation Committee: House Elves physiological temperature is attested around 41°C and is considered pathological over 43,5°C) that resulted in the death of 13% of the subject from 15 to 35 minutes after the potion intake (with a temperature range from 47, 8°C to 48,3°C) and 28% of the subject within 24 hours from the intake, thus leading us to abandon this line of experimentation. The surviving subject didn’t show any change in the vitals and magical parameters in the next 24 hours nor during the mandatory six months follow up.   
Notwithstanding the discrepancies between magical human beings and the House Elves models, we can assure for certain that the effects of the potions here concocted and tested would be the same both in wizards and House Elves, thus demonstrating that the mysterious and legendary Locking Potion, as it is called in popular culture, is not existent and not effective (see Table III for the results of the individual experiments).   
In conclusion, as a team, we believe that the folkloristic tale of a repressive potion for individuals presenting a second sex is just that: a folkloristic tale._

_Karen Witthaker, Master Potioner_

_Annabel Hector, Master Potioner and Supervisor on_

_the ethical standards for the Congress of Potioners_

_XXXX XXXX, Unspeakable Supervisor_

_(On the existence of the Locking Potion - Witthaker, Hector et al. 1977)_

Severus stirred clockwise the potion five times before adding the meticulously dosed powdered flowers of tilia tormentosa and leaving it to simmer for the next forty-two hours.

The Locking Potion was complex and long, and only the ablest Potioners were able to complete it, even with the correct recipe, which was the best-kept secret in the Potioners Community to the point that people wondered about its very existence.

Snape had obtained the knowledge when he was seventeen, in a summer afternoon spent in the Black’s library helping his housemate with the theory of an advanced potion. In contrast to Hogwarts censorship of Dark Arts, the Black’s library was full of text about Dark Magic and every member of the family or friends was welcomed to it, regardless of age, so the two boys, soon to be Death Eaters, reveled in them. That was how Severus found it, in an anonymous book that laid neglected in one of the lower shelves, the recipe handwritten in the cover page like an afterthought. He had copied it in a fresh parchment out of a whim, without realizing how lucrative that choice would turn out to be. He meant it to be just a challenge, trying to concoct something so rare and difficult, not knowing there could really be someone who could use it.

It took him two years to master the correct procedure, the brewing lasted thirty-seven days and the minimum error could cost the entire batch. After that Snape had done it only another two times, all of them for an expensive price.

This third one was no exception.

Althea had offered him something ephemeral but more valuable than what money could buy: her help.

It was subtle and cunning, as all Slytherins were, but she had sewed their fates together with a fine tread. Should the Dark Lord found out about Snape betrayal, Astoria’s neck would be chained the second she presented. Should Astoria ever-present, Althea would sell him to the Death Eaters. A thin equilibrium between light blackmail and old amity. Severus admired her.

So that was why he started preparing the potion as soon as he had returned from Lucius Malfoy’s party, without even checking his rooms, even though his Alpha’s need dragged him to the Omega in his chambers. He had stared at the portrait guarding his chambers, torn between whispering the password or getting down to work.

But more than following his hormones - since he knew it would take more than the ten minutes his brain was hinting he just needed to check on the boy - he needed to start immediately on the concoction, so Snape had pried himself away from his closed-door and had headed to his laboratory. If the girl was already presenting sings the Heat was gonna be in six months, a year at maximum. Severus needed the potion to be ready in the next three months to be sure she could take it by time.

Organizing the ingredients, he set up on preparing a new batch every week for the following month and a half, just to be sure that if something went amiss the girl would still be safe.

* * *

Not a single object in the room was intact.

Harry laid on the floor amongst the debris, looking at the ceiling. He felt empty, as he would if he had cried himself to sleep - except he hadn’t.

He had had a magical outburst.

As soon as he had been spat out of the Pensive Harry’s anger had taken over every residue of coherent thinking. He just couldn’t stop turning in his mind the last words out of Snape’s mouth - ‘What if I do?’, he had asked, and yes, what if he cared? He still had destroyed his life, he still was the culprit of everything wrong that had happened to him and yet here he was living his life, not paying for what he had done.

His magic had resonated along with his pain and anger, palpitating under his skin, turbulent and ferocious, growing frustrated for a release the more Harry’s fury deepened. His righteous wrath had channeled into his veins and Harry could have tried to stop it but a wickedly thought in a corner of his mind had asked him “who cares?” and “doesn’t he deserve it?” so Harry had let go.

He was not sure how it went, he was too wounded, too blinded by anger to remember anything except the feelings inside him, trashing his chest along with the room. He had felt dragged by sorrow and pulled by rage and crushed by impotence and pushed by vengefulness - until he had crumbled on the floor, drained.

He had stayed there, not even able to cry anymore, just looking at the coppery veins in the stones in the ceiling

Then he started to think.

If only he had any idea _what_ to think.

* * *

Hermione Granger had expected people. She just hadn’t expected that many.

Gryffindor’s Common Room had never been so much crowded.

The Weasley Twins along with Ginny were in the front row and so was Neville and Seamus and Dean. Along with them, Lavander and Parvati were dividing a magically extended couch with Colin Creevey and his brother Danny. Almost the whole Gryffindor Tower was there, even some of the first year - out of curiosity more than for the cause.

What she hadn’t expected was half of the school - mostly every student over the fourth year from Ravenclaw and some even younger from Hufflepuff - crumpled into too small red sofas waiting for her to speak.

“Ok, I think… we - we can start… if all of you are here…then…” she faltered. This was too much, there were too many people. She had prepared a speech, but now it was gone from her mind and she was just blanking. It couldn’t work, she thought, a wave of panic rising in her chest.

“You all know why we are here,” Ron said, helping her out. “We are here to rescue our friend, Harry Potter, and to reinstate him as a human being. Being an Omega doesn’t change who he is and what he has done and it shouldn’t mean his demoting as lesser than us. He still is our friends and we can’t let him been taken away.”  
Ron paused. This was Hermione’s speech, she should be giving it, he had just read her notes a few hours before. But the girl nodded as encouragement and he went on.

“I know today was our first day of class and we are already buried in homework and parchments to complete for next week, then there are the OWLs for our year, the NEWTs for some of you, the Quidditch, the House Cup and all of that, but… you all know Harry. And you all know he should be here alongside us, studying for his OWLs and feasting and playing Quidditch and - and preparing to fight He Who - Vo - Voldemort,” the whole crowd gasped, but Ron owned it to Harry to call him by his name. “Because he said as much and I believe him, no matter what the Prophet says. V - Voldemort is back, and he wants Harry. He needs to be prepared as best as possible, he needs it even more than he needs being in the care of some Alpha wizard - and ok, maybe _now_ this is the best thing for him, but in the long term… we want him back. He belongs to Hogwarts.”

The sound of a bitter laugher - _yes, maybe now this is the best thing for him, as if _\- was drowned in the cheering and clapping from the crowd. His brothers and sister were looking at him with a determined smile, with even more conviction than before.

“Thank you” Hermione mouthed and Ron smiled sheepishly.

“I just read your notes, it was all you, really.”

After the cheering subsided - that was a too serious meeting for such displays of mirth - Hermione felt lighter. Maybe it wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

Getting to her feet, she reached a fire log that she had previously transfigurated into a blackboard. “Now, if any of you feels this is a little too much for them, you can go. We are not gonna judge you. To be honest I wasn’t expecting that many of you in the first place. But to those who want to stay, I welcome you to the first assembly of the H. O. L. A.” She wrote the acronym in big letters and, right under it, her name and the Weasleys.

“Like the Spanish greeting?” asked a Ravenclaw boy.

“No, it stands for _Harry & Omega’s Liberation Army_. If you want to join I’m gonna ask you to write your name under ours, then we are gonna do some brainstorming and organize teams to explore the different ideas -”

“Wasn’t there a better name than Hola? It doesn’t seem very professional to me”

“Listen, mate,” Ron rolled his eyes “I don’t know who you are -”

“I’m Micheal Corner.”

“Well, _Micheal_, we know Hermione isn’t the best with names - her project last year was called Spew, ok? But she is trying. If it’s not professional we are gonna change it.”

“Yeah, well, I think we really should.”

Ron was about to curse the insufferable brat - and by the look on Ginny’s face and her hand on her wand, she was about to do the same - when a blonde Ravenclaw girl intervened.

“Professional isn’t what matters the most”, she said, toying almost unconcerned with a radish dangling from her ear, “the O. C. A. has a very professional name and yet it’s crap.”

“Oh please, Luna, now don’t start with the O. C. A. being owned by goblins or some of your conspiracy theories. Spare us. H. O. L. A. sucks and we should change it.”

Another bitter laugh and this time everyone heard it.

“Do any of you really think this is the appropriate time to discuss the name of this organization?” A girl asked,and all faces turned to her. Her robes were green hemmed, and that set a suspicious glare in every person in the room. She - and the other girl by her side - were the only Slytherins after all.

Even though what she had said was what everyone - except for Micheal Corner - was thinking, no one backed her up. 

“No offense, but Slytherins are not welcomed here,” Neville stuttered, a little embarrassed. 

“Why not?” She asked calmly, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Because you are a bunch of Dark Wizards friends with He Who Must Not Be Named and you two are probably just here to find out were Harry is for your dark purposes,” a younger Gryffindor replied with conviction.

“My family has no ties with He Who Must Not Be Named, we are no spies.”

“Yes, sure,” snorted George Weasley, “And who are you exactly?”

“I’m Daphne Greengrass and this is my little sister, Astoria. We are here to help.”

“And why would you want to help?”

“I understand _you_ are here to help your friend, Harry Potter. About that I don’t really care…” a murmuring rippled through the room, someone even booed, “he’s been sold to someone, true, and I understand why you are all so restless and eager to help him out, but… if Dumbledore says he’s safe, as he did at the Welcoming Feast, well, I’m inclined to think _he is_. However, I’ve also understood you are here to fight for Omega’s right in general -”

“Wait, ‘sold’?” Frowned Ginny, but her question was covered, by her brother’s snarl.

“And why would you care about a minority?” asked Fred.

Daphne laughed. “I wouldn’t want to spoil this for you, but do you realize that Alpha and Omegas are pretty much always Purebloods? We are the people touched by this… _curse_. Yes, surely, being an Alpha is considered a privilege, but being an Omega should be considered as well. Omegas have as much power as Alphas, if not more, but they are either enslaved or castrated.”

“Wait a second,” Ginny shouted, trying to be heard over the chaos, “what do you mean with ‘enslaved’?”

“What do you think I mean? Enslaved means enslaved. And to avoid being taken into the O. C. A. Pureblood families administer a castrating potion, the Locking Potion, but that also dampens the magical power as a collateral effect.”

“But I thought that potion was a legend…”   
  
“So were thestrals before Newt Scamander registered them. But it’s not, the Locking Potion exists and…”

“So Harry could have been spared this?” Hermione looked shocked.

“If an Alpha with the appropriate knowledge had noticed the first signs of the presentation, yes. Unfortunately, he evidently lacked both an Alpha to notice his change and the connections to a Potioner with the knowledge to prepare the Locking Potion and willing to risk Azkaban to help him out.” Seeing the confusion in their faces she added: “It’s illegal to castrate an Omega.”

“But why? I thought Omegas were dangerous. Wouldn’t castrating them eliminate the problem?”

The mere thought brought indignation in Daphne, but before she could reply - a little less politely than she had tried to be during what felt like an interrogation more than a conversation - Luna Lovegood answered for her

“Because the Omega Care Association is a bunch of corrupted wizards, that just take funds from the Ministry to sustain useless Departments that get to really work once every hundred years and, by work, they mean enslaving and selling a human being, act from which they obtain even more money. So castrating them would mean remove any form of income and the necessity of the association itself. It was in the last month issue of the Quibbler.”

“That is not -”started a Ravenclaw girl, rolling her eyes

“That is _incredibly accurate_ for something taken out of the Quibbler,” Daphne looked at her with a surprised smile.

“So this is what happened to Harry?” asked Seamus and suddenly every one quieted. “He has been sold to some Alpha?”

Daphne nodded. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all Dumbledore himself is an Alpha, I’m sure your friend his safe.

“If Dumbledore is an Alpha, why didn’t he… help Harry?” asked Colin.

“Maybe he didn’t know?” suggested Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Or he couldn’t get the potion?” Hermione didn’t sound so sure.

“With one of the best Potion Master teaching at school?” asked Cho Chang, puzzled. 

“Isn’t anyone thinking about the fact that a castrating potion would also dampen Potter’s magic?” 

“No, professor Dumbledore would never -”

“Castration shouldn’t be an option” Daphne interrupted them with indignant rage, “It’s the lesser evil, but no one should sacrifice a part of themselves just to stay alive. Would you renounce to your hand in exchange for your freedom? Probably yes, but _is it fair_ to ask that? Should we really let that much magical potential go wasted because of some stupid barbaric law that hasn’t been updated since the Middle Age? They say Omegas are uncontrollable, that they would bring havoc and destroy if they are not controlled, but they have no proof of this. The only thing that I saw Harry Potter do is save the world.” There was a fire burning in her words, the righteous conviction of someone who had something to lose. “So now I don’t care if you don’t want me here just because of the colors of my robes, I’m staying.”

She walked straight to the blackboard and, taking the chalk from Hermione’s hand, wrote her name. When didn’t need to look at her sister to know she was doing the right thing.

* * *

His brain took a minute to register the state of his living room - the toppled armchairs, the broken cabinet, glass fragments on the floor and potions spilled, books scattered around and the shelves brought down.

Fear constricted his chest - _they had been found, Harry was in danger, he had been taken, Death Eaters, they… they must have found a way to break into Hogwarts and he was not there, he was away concocting a stupid potion, while Harry was -_

And then Harry emerged from behind an armchair, where he had crouched to retrieve a book.

It had been a few seconds before he figured out he was perfectly fine, that he was cleaning up the mess, that there wasn’t any danger, but to Snape, it felt like a year.

“Potter!” Snape dashed across the room to reach him without even bothering about stepping on broken furniture. “Are you hurt? What happened here?”

_Are you hurt?_

Well, Harry didn’t expect this. Not exactly. He had thought Snape would be furious, enraged about what Harry had done to his - _their_ \- chambers. Instead, his first reaction was… worry.

_What if I care?_

‘Just how much of this is him and how much is the Alpha?’ Harry wondered.

_Never. You know I’ve never hated him._

It didn’t matter. Maybe.

_What if I care?_

“What happened here?” Snape asked again, bothered by the lack of reaction.

“I think I had an Omega outburst,” Harry finally replied, deadpan and averting his gaze. His eyes were hollow and the collar around his neck had changed into a deep blue.

“What triggered it?” Snape didn’t leave him be, gripping his shoulder as to make sure he was really there and safe.

“Uhm?”

“What triggered it? Omegas outburst are hormonal or emotional and I scented you this morning - it couldn’t be -” 

It couldn’t be he was too preoccupied with restraining himself from touching the boy he didn’t put enough attention in the scenting. It couldn’t. Could it?

“_Tell_ me what happened, Har - Potter.”

The Alpha inflection in his voice was involuntary - just a mere reflex of the urgency to know what menace, physical or mental, was bothering his Omega - but it should have worked nonetheless.

Instead, Harry recoiled. “Tell me, Potter. Train more, Potter. Be quiet, Potter” he mocked him. “For someone who says he doesn’t want to be my _master_, you give a lot of orders.”

Oh, so it was the emotional kind of outburst; Potter had finally caught up with all that was happening to him. Snape let out a breath, his heart slowing down as the adrenaline in his blood decreased. Not that he had any idea how to emotionally handle his student in a situation like this, but he had had to deal with teenagers for fifteen years of his life, after all, he could do it.

“I’m not your master,” Snape tried to reason with him, “but I still am your Professor, I still retain an authoritative - ”

“No, you’re not! I’m no longer a student here. I am your _Omega_” Harry spat the word at his feet, throwing the whole concept in the mud where it belonged. “I am your slave, am I not?”

“We have already discussed this, Potter” Snape countered dryly, trying to dampen the anger he felt rising in his chest. “Don’t play games with me, you know you’re not a slave - ”  
“Don’t insult me.” Harry gripped the front of his robes, bringing him down to his eye-level “I can’t leave this rooms, I can’t see my friends, I can’t attend this school, I can own a wand only because you’re so _kind_ to allow me to and I can write to my friends only after you’ve checked my letters and censored them, least I reveal something important. But I don’t know anything really important, now, do I? I’m just a pawn, moved where you and Dumbledore think it’s better. And right now I have just been dumped here with you. And you… you…”

“I what, Potter?” Snape asked glacial, putting a hand on his fists still tightening his clothes, as to force him to let go. He had allowed this to go on long enough, the boy needed to calm down, least he had another outburst.

“You! You hate me or you don’t hate me… hell if I know. Hell if I care! I don’t GIVE A FUCK IF YOU CARE!” And then the turmoil inside him took over; the need to crush and destroy was there again, along with his magic, confusion, and lust mixed with grief and hate for what Snape had taken away from him - his parents life, the truth and the right to know it, the right to decide to hate him and the right to decide to forgive him -, dried tears and frustration - the desire built during that month of scenting without getting enough, never enough, without being entitled to want more because it was not “right” even if his body was screaming it _was_ and his mind was recoiling in disgust because surely it _wasn’t_, not with Snape, but then why it felt so? -

Harry hadn’t planned to kiss him.

He pulled him down, crushing their lips together and forcing his way into his mouth as the professor gasped surprised, sliding his tongue against his.

Snape kissed back, for the reaction had been immediate and intoxicating; his body, already on alert for the adrenaline of the fighting, had responded by producing pheromones, numbing his mind to the point it didn’t matter if what he was doing was unethical.

This was the way to placate his Omega, said his feral instincts. This was how to solve everything. 

Except it wasn’t.

Snape had sworn to not touch the boy, to not use him, as the O.C.A. had intended. Harry felt like a slave and doing this would only aggravate the feeling.

It took all his willpower to pull away.

“Potter,” he moaned, and no, this wasn’t the effect he had wanted, for Harry just whimpered and started licking his neck. “Potter, no, this… this is inappropriate. We can’t do this.”

Snape was trying to retreat again, to hold on to something already lost, the idea that everything could go back to normal, and Harry wouldn’t let him.

Nothing could ever be normal again. Why bother in keeping up appearances? Just to trick themselves into thinking they were still the same people they were before Harry’s presentation? They weren’t.

“Yes, we can,” Harry growled against his neck. “Fuck appropriateness! You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing” Snape snarled, trying to push him away, but Harry was immovable.

“You owe me this”, he pressed, “You own _me_.”

And oh, god, if that didn’t resonate with the inner Alpha inside of him. He almost growled in response.

But it wasn’t true, was it?

He may have technically owned him, but he hadn’t marked him, and he never would, because Harry would never want to be his - the Omega, maybe, but the boy, never. Potter despised him, hormones could change that perception only momentarily, but when the hormonal peak would recede, Harry would hate him even more for allowing himself to have stopped despising him.

And Snape suddenly realized he didn’t want Harry to hate him more than he already did.

He held no hope he could hate him less - damn, before this moment, he had never _wanted_ him to hate him less, every action he had ever made in the boy’s regard, even saving his life, had projected an edge of sarcasm and loathing that Harry had mirrored perfectly, just as Snape wanted, enough for the boy to never look at him as a parental figure. To never look at him as a friendly face.

Snape had had to keep the distance to protect him. And to protect himself.

Because what else could he tell the boy that wouldn’t hurt them both? “Look, child, I was the one who killed your parents, but hey, let me make it up to you by telling you about that time when your father bullied me.” No. No, it was better to refuse to recognize him as an independent being, projecting on him his father (or his mother on some occasion), as if he could just be their exact copy. It was better for the boy to hate him and despise him and never…

… never kiss him like he was doing right now.

To his dismay, Severus realized his hands had clawed the boy’s hips, holding him still against his chest, their groins grinding against each other. He could sense Harry’s erection against his tight and he could feel himself getting harder as the boy kept jerking in his clutch.

He tried to pull away again, but Harry was gripping his hair with a hand to keep him close, as if he didn’t want to risk any distance developing between their faces, closer, as if willing to break the principle of the impenetrability of matter, making them one. He wasn’t letting him run away and Snape was losing the will to.

“Ah, I - I need more,” Harry whimpered against his mouth, trying to disrobe him with only one hand, even if the buttons of his collar put up some resistance.

Severus didn’t even try to stop him, he just looked at him, taking in every detail - the frown on his forehead as he concentrated, the trail of saliva glistening in the corner of his swollen lips… then Harry looked up to him from under his lashes and Snape could see his green eyes, lust pooled in them, pupils dilated and irises darkened - darker than Lily’s had ever been, so different he could no longer pretend he was looking at them because of her.

Harry licked his lips and Snape growled in response, kissing him, ravenous, as he grazed his teeth against the boy’s lips, nibbling them.

He pushed him, not away, but blindly driving him through the room, trying to avoiding the mess, searching for the bedroom door and settling instead when he found a wall to shove him up against.

Harry clung to him, gasping as his back hit the wall, a surge of hormones sending shivers down his spine. He should have been scared, at least, being trapped like that, instead, his mind couldn’t stop thinking anything else but “finally!”

Snape’s hand went up from his hips to his waist, sliding under the fabric of his shirt, now untucked, and yes, that was so much cleverer and faster than fighting with all those buttons. Harry pulled at his professor’s robes, so close to just ripping them off and be done with it, but melted when Snape reached with his hands over his trousers rim and gripped his ass. Snape thrust his hips against him, needing more friction, needing more, needing to take him. He could feel the texture of his saliva changing, sweetening and thickening, as his teeth were slightly elongating.

‘Not yet’, he thought, ‘I need to be inside him first’.

And then, maybe it was the last vestiges of his intellect screaming, maybe it was just a fortuitous combination of attenuated hormones, Snape regained a shred of lucidity.

He snapped out of it; horror coiled in the pit of his stomach as the realization hit him. He had been so close to marking him.

He took a step back, breathing raggedly, physically holding Harry at arm’s length.

“What?” Harry asked confused, but Snape didn’t reply, lost in his thoughts.

‘Fuck! When I think I can’t sink any lower I keep proving myself I can,’ he thought, ‘Look at me, rutting against my owned fifteen years old ex-student Omega slave, ready to mark him.’

Reaching for his magical core, Snape looked him in his eyes and did what he felt the need to do from the moment he entered his rooms just to find them wrecked with Harry standing amidst the chaos.

“_Legilimens!_”

The world stilled and froze.

At first, Snape couldn’t go in, Harry’s mind was too numbed by the pinkish sweaty fog of pleasure and lust. Not unexpected, but at least a good sign that whatever Snape had been ready to do - bite him, mark him, bound them together for life - hadn’t had a great impact on the boy, if he ever noticed at all.

After a moment, though, the fog thinned out and he could reach Harry’s memory.

It was some weird head-aching mirror trick, looking Harry looking at him. But somehow it made all much clearer about what had happened in that room.

Harry had been in his Pensive, he had seen it all, every single memory he had wanted to keep for himself, every single secret he had so carefully guarded, every damn moment of shame and every proof of his guilt, of his role on his life and more, everything Dumbledore had ever told him about the boy, information that could cost them the war.

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked so thrown off he couldn’t even feel anger yet, just shock.

But Snape was still trying to turn his mind around the implication of what had happened, what that could mean, how everything could have been screwed up. He had been stupid to leave the Pensive in his room, warded, yes, but more out of habit than true concern because he - he had trusted the boy to not look and he… he had looked.

“How dare you?” Snape spat, “You - you - YOU LOOKED!”

“I did.”

“Out.”

“What?”

“I said ‘out’, get out! Get OUT!”

“Where? In the middle of the corridor? In the Slytherin dungeons? So that everyone would see who is my Alpha?”

“I - You -” Snape looked like he was about to have a seizure.

Distancing himself from that damn wall, the professor paced the room trying to clear his mind. He couldn’t think with his nostrils still full of Omega’s scent.

Harry leaned against the wall. “You should have told me.”

“You shouldn’t have pried!” Snape snapped, “It was none of you damn business!”

“Yes, it was! It IS! There’s a fucking prophecy on my life. It _is_ my damn business!”

“Not everything is about you, Potter! There were things you were not supposed to see! You know nothing about -”

“Yes, I know nothing! I never know anything, because no one ever tells me things so I have to figure them out as I go and I make a mess everything, and I get people killed! If I had known about my connection with Voldemort maybe Cedric would still be alive!”

Survivor’s guilt. How fitting.

“That’s unlikely.” Snape should have told him it wasn’t his fault, but Harry wouldn’t have believed him. Besides, it would be pretty hypocritical of him to try to sell to the boy the same things he deemed as crap when he was on the receiving end. “And sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

“But knowledge is power.”  
  
“And what did you do to obtain it?” Snape gestured the destructed room, “Debris is what is left in the search of power. Or do you really think I wanted your mother to die when I reported that prophecy?”

Snape closed his eyes and looked away.

“You feel guilty,” Harry realized. “You don’t hate _me_, you hate how I make you feel.”

“Every time I look at you… You have her damn eyes and I killed her. I was stupid and I didn’t reflect on what it would mean to tell him that fucking prophecy. As you haven’t reflected on what it would mean for us all if the Dark Lord were to gain knowledge of what we know through your mind.”

“It’s hard to reflect when you don’t know the shit you’re supposed to reflect about!”

“Oh, please, Potter, spare me, if you want to self-pity do it in your own room.”

“I wasn’t self-pitying!”   
  
“Good. Because self-pity would hardly help us.”

And yes, Snape was right, his remark had been childish and not helpful at all. Besides, he had known he was wrong in violating his privacy.

“Then what do we do, now?” he asked, instead of keep arguing.

Snape looked lost for just a second but it was enough for Harry’s heart to clench as he recognized the ‘I don’t know’ in his features - and that scared him most than any prophecy.

Because if Snape had that face, maybe he had screwed up really bad.

Snape absent-mindedly passed his thumb over his lips as he pondered. Then he turned and took a handful of Floo Powder, throwing it in the fire pit, before putting his head in the green flames.

Harry couldn’t discern what he was saying, but he could hear him talking with someone. The conversation went on for a few moments, and when Snape got out his face was unreadable.

“I’m not sure I could be your Alpha anymore.”

Then Snape grabbed his arm and threw him in the flames.

When he stumbled out at Dumbledore’s feet, the flames had changed back from green to red, closing the passage.

* * *

Harry kept quiet, silence stretching for ages. 

He had asked to see Dumbledore every day since his arrival at Hogwarts and now that his wish to talk with the Headmaster had been fulfilled he felt like he had nothing to ask the man in front of him. 

All the questions he could have had, all the mysteries… everything was answered by what he had seen in the Pensive. And if some doubt remained, Harry wouldn’t ask Professor Dumbledore to solve them. He couldn’t trust him anymore. 

“Would you like some lemon sherbet, Harry?” The Headmaster broke the silence.

“No, thanks.”

Dumbledore took one. 

“Well, I think it’s time for us to do what we are supposed to do, are we not?”

“I don’t know. What are we supposed to do?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Talk, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled sadly. “I think we should talk.” 

“Why bother? I already know everything there is to know, and what I still don’t, you surely don’t want to tell me.” 

“Harry, my boy, of course -” 

“You wouldn’t be here talking to me if the secret wasn’t already out,” Harry interrupted him, “It took me violating Snape’s Pensive and destroying his room to finally have you acknowledge my presence here and finally deign to talk to me.” 

“I won’t deny it.”

Harry looked taken aback. 

“I think you’re still too young. Or maybe it’s just some old man delusion in willing you to be innocent and carefree for a little longer.” 

“Carefree?!” Harry laughed bitterly. “Professor, I don’t think you have noticed the damn collar around my neck! When have I ever been carefree? While sleeping in a cupboard?” 

“Here at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore simply replied, and Harry closed his mouth because it was true. “I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school and I could not bring myself to add another. I could have told you about the prophecy the first time you defeated Voldemort, I wanted to tell you but… the first step is always the most difficult to take. I thought I had time, I cared about you too much and I wanted to save you more pain than you had already suffered. And then Voldemort came back and what I had just hypothesized became more and more plausible.” 

“My unavoidable death?” Harry asked, impassible, and Dumbledore just nodded. “You would have let me go dying blindly?” 

“Wouldn’t it be mercy?” 

“No! I deserved to know!” 

Dumbledore stopped him before he could get even angrier. “I know. And I _would_ have told you when the moment came. But how could I look at you and tell you you’d have to die before it was absolutely necessary?” His eyes were glistening from unshed tears. “How could I look at a fifteen years old child who I came to cherish, who would have had all his life in front of him if only he would have been anyone else but Harry Potter and tell him he should die, sacrifice himself so that we could live free. Don’t judge me too harshly for willing to postpone this moment and spare us both the pain as long as possible.”

“You didn’t do it for me. You were just selfish.”

“Aye. Selfish. And ashamed of myself.”

“Ashamed?” Harry snapped, "I am to die and you feel ashamed?"

Dumbledore took off his glasses, massaging his temples. “When you get as old as I am, you change the way you look at things. There are a lot less black and white and a lot more shades of grey. We could attack, stall, lose thousands of lives, between Aurors and Dark Wizards and civilians and oblivious Muggles, all taken in the crossfire. And maybe, _maybe_, we could take Voldemort down. Small chance,” he put his glasses back, “Or we could use you as the central piece in this chess game and enhance our possibilities to win without losing so many lives but yours. I know you have to act as a sacrificial lamb. I know this is the easiest way to win and it shames me what I am prepared to do for the Greater Good. It almost makes me wonder if it is the Greater Good at all.”

“And yet you are prepared to do it,” Harry accused him. 

“When you follow something for so long, the objective blinds you to the road that takes you there and you allow awful things to happens. Sometimes I even have to pretend to be blind to go on” Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “Yes, Harry. I’m prepared to do it. And are you not?”

Harry looked away. 

“I know you are, I know you would face Voldemort even if it hadn’t been prophesied. Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m so sure?” 

“I don’t really care ” 

“You don’t?” 

“No, I don’t care what you think you know about me.”

“Oh, I don’t just assume to know this about you. I am certain. Or having your Presentation changed you to the point you no longer are the eleven years old boy who threw himself into a trial that would have made any adult wizard tremble just to face what you thought was Professor Snape and prevent him to gain the Philosopher Stone?” 

“You are just trying to manipulate me. Again.” 

Dumbledore looked hurt. “No. I’m just trying to make you see things as they are. You are the one who went to face a Basilisk and the unknown in the Chamber of Secret to save the life of a poor girl, just because no one else would. The one who flew back in time on a Hippogryph to save the soul of a man you had known for a few hours, just because he was innocent and it was what had to be done. The one who almost drowned in the School’s Lake because you wanted to save all the hostages during the Triwizard Tournament and who took back Cedric Diggory’s corpse even if doing so could have cost you your life. Are you no longer that person, Harry? 

Dumbledore looked at him expectantly and seemed to deflate when Harry replied. 

“I don’t know. Have I ever been him?”

“I - I don’t think I understand.”

“Did you made me so?”

“What?” 

“Did you made me so? Did you make me the sacrificial type? For the Greater Good?” Harry’s rage, building as he spoke, broke on the last question, along with his voice. 

“Oh, Harry,” he looked pained, “I think you put too much faith in me and my ability. I could never mold you like that. I pushed you, maybe, but it was you. It _is_ you. It’s _all_ you.”

Harry looked away. He could feel it. He could sense it in his heart. He did all those things Professor Dumbledore had enumerated and even more because it was the right thing to do. 

“You don’t trust me anymore, do you?” 

“I wish I could. I trusted you from the start and look where I am. Oblivious, enslaved and about to die.” 

“I know I deserve it,” Dumbledore acknowledged “but I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for what I’m about to tell you. You asked me to be honest, so I’ll be. You deserve it and I own you as much.”

Harry nodded. 

“However if I am to treat you like the adult you were forced to become,” he said, acknowledging his collar, “I need you to behave like the adult you are required to be.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not talking as your Headmaster, in fact, I have no authority over you. But I need you to learn Occlumency. It’s mandatory.” 

“Because Voldemort could implant new thoughts in me?” 

“Yes, and because Voldemort would know what we know. We would lose the element of surprise and we would be disadvantaged. Right now, the flow of information it’s unconscious and it goes in both directions. But Voldemort will soon realize what is happening and will close his mind to you while trying to keep access to yours. If you are not protected, he could gain vital pieces of information, such as who is your Alpha, where you are and what I am about to tell you.

Occlumency will be fundamental. It’s not true that oblivion doesn’t exist. The brain selects what to keep and other things get discarded, not eliminated but encrypted so much they become unreadable. And if you don’t have the key, for how much you try to, you can no longer decipher it. With Occlumency you would learn how to do so, to disguise your thoughts, encrypt them and hide the key, even to yourself if necessary.” 

“I understand,” Harry nodded, “and I will apply myself on Occlumency. But… couldn’t you teach me?” 

“I’m afraid my presence in your mind would only draw Voldemort’s interest and accelerate his becoming aware of this link.” 

“Yes, but if Snape doesn’t take me back?” 

“He will.” 

“How are you so sure? He just threw me in your Office, without a word.” He had actually said a word, more than only one actually, and even though it would have helped Harry’s case - “_I’m not sure I could be your Alpha anymore_” - the boy didn’t want to speak that out loud. “And you are an Alpha. I can smell it. He just decided I was not worthy of his time and left me to you, didn’t he?” It shouldn’t have stung so much. 

“I’m afraid I’m not used to talking about people while they’re not in the room, but if there’s a thing I can assure you is that Professor Snape didn’t hand you off to me.” 

“Still, you are an Alpha. Couldn’t you take me in?” 

“Would you really prefer that? To have intimacy with me than Severus?” 

“I -” He should have said yes, of course, he would have preferred hugging the Headmaster instead of Professor Snape. Except he could still feel Snape’s body pressed against him, his panting in his ears, his tongue in his mouth and yes, yes, he wanted that, more than that, with Snape - if one could believe it - and he didn’t regret anything. Besides he would have preferred to gauge his eyes out at the idea of himself and the headmaster… ugh, no, a mental image he didn’t need and that probably would have Voldemort running away to vomit should he ever approach his mind.

“I thought so. Don’t worry to let me down easy, Harry, I know I’m an old man” Dumbledore winked at him, and Harry almost felt fourteen again, his name not yet in the Goblet of Fire, Voldemort still dead, no prophecies nor Omegas. 

Almost.

“Besides, Harry, don’t you smell something else?” 

“I - yes? What is it?” 

“That is the Bond. It means I already have an Omega. And it’s part of what I am about to tell you. But first, we need to discuss the Prophecy and how it links you with Voldemort. Keep in mind that this is just more than a conjecture, but that I lack solid evidence. I doubt to be wrong, but as our conversation, as already proved, I have been wrong before.”

“So maybe I don’t have to die.” 

“You may have a chance not to die even if I’m correct.” 

“Then why the fuck -?”

“I believe you have already witnessed it in the Pensive. The Marking is the only thing that probably won’t kill you.” 

“Oh,” Harry remembered that bit of conversation. But also remembered what Snape told him about the Mark. 

Well, after all, it was better to be forever tied to Snape - his insides churned at the thought, though he could tell it was less from disgust and more from anticipation - than to be dead.

“I’m gonna tell you everything I know, albeit it’s very little, about Horcruxes and why I think you are one.” 

Harry listened. 

* * *

Snape hid his face between his hands. 

Damn. 

_When I think I can’t sink any lower. _

He had tried giving up morals, see how that ended. His best friend was dead. 

And now this, being about to Mark her son. 

Snape needed a drink - but he needed his mental lucidity more, so he gave up the idea. He also needed to stop sensing Harry Potter’s smell up his nostrils at every breath. 

The thing was: in less than a month the damn brat had taken over his life. There wasn’t a single corner that didn’t _reek_ of him. How could Snape ever be alone when his presence was everywhere?

Snape had tried - tried, for fuck sake, he should have just done it! - to forget that first momentary lapse, that moment of weakness when the boy had kissed him and he had allowed it. No, who was he kidding, he had practically assaulted Potter and there were no excuses for that. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be controlled by hormones. He was the adult Alpha here and - 

No.

No, he had told Potter self-pity wouldn’t help them, and he wouldn’t start by contradicting himself. 

He had made mistakes - tons of mistakes, his whole life was probably a big mistake - but he had learned to contain the damage. 

Dumbledore would know what to do.

In the meantime, he had researches to do. Prohibited books, from the Forbidden Section, and Dark tomes, lent from Black’s library by Dumbledore himself, had waited on his desk for his attention since Potter had presented. Now was as good a moment as any other else. 

If he could find his desk in the debris, of course. 

* * * 

The flames glowed green and Harry stepped out of them, as graciously as he could. And that meant he tripped on his own feet and fell to the ground - he would never get used to traveling by Floo Powder.

Snape was on his feet and up to help him in mere seconds. 

Harry took an instant to notice the room was perfectly mended, he wouldn’t have imagined it completely destroyed only a few hours before. Snape had repaired what he could, flickered everything at his place and vanished the spilled potions. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be back,” the Professor said, hauling him up, and letting go of his arm immediately as if the contact could burn him. 

“You are my Alpha,” Harry stated as if it was the most normal thing in the universe as if nothing had happened. 

“Am I?” Snape asked almost rhetorically. 

In response, Harry kissed him - not on hormonal high, not with the desperation and the need that heat brought with itself. He simply pressed his lips with his, not forcing him to deepen the kiss. 

That must have been why Snape let him do it without fighting. 

“I talked to Dumbledore.”

“Stating the obvious, Potter,” but his mouth was dry and his voice was hoarse. And it still didn’t make sense why Harry would kiss him instead of attacking him or trying to kill him. Surely Dumbledore must have made very clear Severus’ role and everything he had done. 

“I want you to mark me,” Harry stated, calmly. 

“What -?” Snape almost took a step back, appalled. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save my life.” 

“Potter…”

“If you don’t mark me, I’ll have to walk up to Voldemort and let him kill me.” 

This time Snape did take a step back. “You can’t be sure.” 

“Dumbledore has evidence and it all points in that direction.” 

“He’s not one hundred percent sure. He’s just making guesses. And you’re ready to give away your freedom for… a gamble!” 

“I don’t have any freedom to give away.”

“I told you: you are not _mine_.” Snape shook his head and forced the words out, forcing his alpha possessiveness to shut up. It didn’t help him or his will the fact that Harry looked at him like he had just slapped him in the face. “I won’t bind you to me for life. The Mark is unbreakable.”

Harry passed a hand through his hair, searching for a counterargument. 

“Fine. I think we’re a little bit forward, but let’s say I win and I don’t need to be marked. I’m still stuck with you.” 

“No… there are other Alphas. You could… you could choose.” He would let the boy go, this was all about it. He bought the boy because it was what had to be done, to keep him safe, but as soon as his life was not in danger anymore, Harry would walk away, he would choose another Alpha and Snape would relinquish his property. It would be treading a master for a master, but at least Potter would have a say in it. 

“Would you really give me away?” the boy asked. 

It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a damn parcel to be shifted or relocated. A small and selfish part of Snape would gloat in having Potter there, under him as he sank his teeth in the tender flesh of his neck. 

“I won’t force you to stay.” 

“And if I want to stay?” 

Snape snorted. “You don’t want to stay.” 

“I do.” 

“Oh, you do?” the professor scoffed, “Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“You would prefer me to… one of your fellow students? A young girl your age? I’m sure someone of your friends is gonna present soon, Miss Weasley perhaps.” 

Harry didn’t like the mockery tone in his voice. He reminded him too much of Potion lessons spent steaming in hatred. “You know I don’t have time to wait for them to Mark me.” 

This time it was Snape that looked like he had been slapped. What had he expected? For Potter to throw himself at him, declaring everlasting love or lust or passion? No, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. But being used as a tool… being used again and again and this time from the only person he could have trust to be innocent and maybe a little bit stupid in his naivety, but at least straightforward, as he wore his heart on his sleeve… 

Snape snapped.

“So I should just do this because you ask of me? Do you have any idea -” _what it would do to me? _“You are fifteen, underage, till a few months ago I was your teacher - I would still be your teacher if you hadn’t presented - and now you are asking me to defile you. Yes, sure, should we do it right now?” 

Snape grabbed his collar and pushed him against the wall. 

Harry fumbled, trying to right himself against the side of the fireplace, but Snape was already on him. 

Knocking his legs apart, Snape pushed himself between them, plastering the boy to the wall. 

His breath was already ragged, hormones trying to take over his mind and directing his action, but this time Snape was in control - he had chosen to initiate physical contact, he hadn’t been taken by surprise, he was still present to himself enough to stop if so he wished. 

But he wouldn’t stop, he needed to shock the boy, he needed to scare him as to what his desires really were. It was so easy to ask to be marked in a civil conversation - Snape suppressed a chuckle, a ‘civil conversation’ - but it would be different actually doing it. Hormones could only tamper the sensation so much. 

The pain would be there and there wouldn’t be anything else to make up for it - no sentiment, no tenderness, no anything. There would only be heat and the need to mate and couple, but then, when the wave would recede… 

_“The bond between an Alpha and an Omega is much more than that twisted power play the Association wants you to believe. The mark is a symbol of love, of trust, of codependency. An Alpha doesn’t mark to dominate, he marks to protect and gets marked in turn - even if it’s not as showy or advertised. It’s mutual. It’s like a wedding band, not shackle,” _Dumbledore words resonated in his head. 

What Dumbledore didn’t understand - but to Snape was crystal clear - was that wedding bands could be shackles too if you were bond to someone you hated. 

Snape needed to dissuade the boy, to let him understand what he was asking for and run away from it. 

“Snape…?” Potter asked tentatively, hoping to get some grasp and control over the situation, because Snape was behaving weirdly, and surely the whole situation was awkward and volatile.

Ignoring him, the professor licked his neck, “Do you really want the Mark?”

Then he sank his - still normal - teeth in his flesh, hard enough to evoke a shriek, but not to cut. 

“Do you want me to fuck you dry against this wall and bite you bloody? Do you really want me to?. I’m gonna hurt you, you know?” Snape could feel Potter shivers under his touch. Perfect, it was about time to instill fear in that reckless boy. “It’s gonna be so messy and unpleasant and nasty - the Mark always is. You need to bleed. So, now, tell me again, do you want me to mark you?” 

Potter gulped but didn’t reply.

“Answer me. Do you want me to?” 

“Y - yes!” Harry let out a strangled breath and rolled his hips against him, grinding his erection against him. 

“No,” Snape breathed, flabbergast, - no, this wasn’t the answer he was expecting, not at all - and tried to take a step back, but Harry’s arms had encircled him and were keeping him there, their body pressed together. 

“Yes,” Harry almost moaned, “I - I want you.” 

“No. Potter. It’s not you,” Snape tried to pull away, uselessly, “It’s your Omega part that’s talking!”

“Yes, it’s my Omega part but… can I - can I stop being an Omega?”

“What?” How was it possible for one of the most obtuse children he had ever had the misfortune to teach to, to throw him off like that? 

“Is there some way I can return a normal male human being without a second sex?” 

“No,” Snape shook his head, “No, now that you have presented you can’t.”

Harry nodded as if he had expected that answer. “Then it _is_ me. I am the Omega _and_ I am Harry Potter.” 

Snape looked at him, trying to find some leverage to dismantle his logic, but Harry was already rubbing himself against him. 

“And I need you to fuck me,” the boy let out, leaning his head against the wall, exposing the white line of his neck, the blue collar stretching along with his muscles, his skin candid and untouched except for the red bruise with the imprint of his own teeth.

Snape was in Hell, and Potter was his torturer, his tempting devil. 

“Potter, let go of me,” but the boy was already rubbing his nose on his collar and it took all of Snape’s goodwill to not inhale and be done with it. 

“No,” Harry breathed against his skin, “Take responsibility for what you do to me.”

Take… _responsibility_? The damn brat! How dare he?! 

Responsibility - as if it is whole life hadn’t been charged with that, responsibility for his action, for the unforeseen consequences, for his mistakes and for other people’s mistakes too… 

How dare he -?

“Snape…” Harry whined - _pleaded_ \- and gripped his back and grind against him and Snape knew. 

He just couldn’t walk away from this. 

His hand shuffled through the boy’s robes - he wasn’t really gonna do it, right? He couldn’t do it - and unzipped his pants.

“Yes!” Harry groaned, shifting to get him better access and Snape had to steel himself. 

Damn, he was not getting hard! What was he, a teenager again? He was in control. He could fight this. 

His long fingers curled around the boy’s shaft and Harry shivered and quivered, little moans escaping from his lips. It took all his will for Snape to not go through with his menaces - his promises. No, he wouldn’t fuck the boy. It was bad enough what he was doing. 

“Snape…” Harry whimpered, thrusting into his hand and Snape tightened his grip. “Snape!” 

“No,” he said, pressing his body against the wall, his breath hot against the boy’s neck, as he stroked him “No, say my name.” What was he doing? He needn’t give the boy that much confidence - oh, screw keeping distances, he was jerking him off, how could first name bases be worst? “Say my name.”

“Se - Severus?” He asked tentatively as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to. 

“Yes, like that,” he praised him as he slid the other hand inside his pants too, stroking his sack and reaching down for his hole. Damn, the boy was already leaking and dilate. 

Harry gasped, “Severus…” 

“Yes?”

“More.” 

Oh, that cursed brat, he was gonna be the death of him, always demanding and damning. 

Snape increased the pace of his stroking, shivering at the feel of the skin hot and damp under his palm. 

“Severus, more,” he writhed and squirmed and how could Severus refuse him anything when he asked like that? 

His finger slipped inside his hole, slick with his natural lubrication, and Harry trusts down on him and forwards into his hand, almost desperately, murmuring a string of incoherent mumbles. 

Slowly, Severus added his middle finger, stretching him and Harry could do nothing but held his breath, his hands frenetically clutching Snape’s shoulder, every muscle contracting as if he was preparing to bolt - Severus could feel the increased pressure around his fingers, and desperately tried to not imagine his cock sunk as deep into him… 

Harry screamed and came and Severus felt him throbbing in his hand, spurt dripping down the fingers of the other one… the humors preparing the boy for receiving the knot. His knot. 

It was a little too much, Severus needed to clear his head before doing the irreparable. 

He forced himself to take a step back and think of awful things - it was a pity is moral compass was completely demagnetized and gone: this, screwing one of his students, would have been a dreading and cooling thought once. Now he had to almost run for the toilet and reach for the cabinet, swallowing a dampening potion with shaking hands, before he was able to even think about washing his hands - rinsing Harry’s smell before it could convince him to do some other mistake - and return to the boy. 

Harry had just tucked himself away without even cleaning himself, leaving white stains to dry on his shirt, hiding his face by looking at the ground and leaning with his back at the wall. 

“How are you feeling?” Snape asked, calmly, steeling himself for the blow of the boy’s answer. 

“I -” Harry trailed, searching for words. “I -”

“You regret it,” Snape supplied. 

“No.” The boy’s head snapped up. 

“You do.” 

“Why do you always think you know better.” 

“Because I know better.” 

“No, you don’t! You simply assume things and then refuse to change your idea.” 

“You are just stubbornly trying to be a contrarian.” 

“I’m not. I know what I want.”

“You don’t know if you want to stay here,” he snorted, “You haven’t smelled anyone else.”

“I don’t need to,” Harry shook his head, “I want _you_ to Mark me.” 

“Easy to say in the afterglow. You are gonna regret it.”

“Regret, regret. And what about you?” 

“Me?”

“Aren’t you gonna regret it?” 

Snape almost laughed, bitter and bewildered. Last time someone had taken into account what _he_ was feeling or what he wanted, he had been about Potter’s age. 

“I just do what I have to.” 

“So if you agree, this will be just a penance.” 

“I haven’t agreed to anything. I still don’t think this is what I have to do.”

But Harry wasn’t listening to his reply.

Grasping his robe, he slid a hand in Snape’s pocket and took his wand. The professor looked at him as if he had grown another head.

But Harry simply handed it back to him, holding it by the tip and presenting to him the handle. 

Snape took it but Harry didn’t let go, bringing the tip to rest on his forehead. 

“Read me.” 

“Have you lost your mind at last?”

“I’m asking you to read my mind. It’s only fair. After I’ve been in yours.”

“You know it’s not reading. And I’ve already been in your mind.”

“No, you haven’t. Not with my consent. You just glimpsed things. I want you to see everything.”

“Why?” 

“Because you hate me -” 

“I don’t.” 

“No, you don’t. I know. But everything you feel for me is not for me, is it? It’s for what I represent. For my mother, my father, your mistakes. I need you to know me. I need you to see my mind. Won’t you do it for me?” 

“I -”

“Haven’t you done all that was necessary to keep me safe? Even when it was dangerous and it pained you and it broke all your ethics?” 

“You’ve spent too much time with Dumbledore for my own good.” 

“Probably,” Harry conceded, “And too much time in your memories too. But am I wrong?” 

“You should have been put into Slytherin.” 

“The Sorting Hat wanted to.” 

Snape frowned. “What?” 

“Why don’t you look at it yourself?” Harry pushed and Snape could just feel himself falling over.

“_Legilimens_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing anymore - what's IC? Do you eat it? 
> 
> I swear they're gonna properly fuck sooner o later.   
Also brace yourself, because, you know who isn't dead in this time-line and may have something to say about his godson? Yes, that's it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
